Secretly Yours

by Gina Wilkins

  She had hurt him, and he wouldn’t get over that easily.

  Closing her eyes, she laid her head against the back of the rocker and wondered if she should be annoyed with him for having her investigated without her permission. But he had been worried about her, he’d said. Coming from Trent, that was something.

  He had just started to trust her a little—enough to show her glimpses of the real Trent behind the defensive shell he’d donned. Would she ever win that trust back?

  11

  EASTER SUNDAY DAWNED sunny, clear, beautiful. Annie enjoyed the church service, the music, the flowers, the little girls in frilly dresses and the little boys anxious to get outside and mess up their crisp new clothes. Her heavy mood lightened for a couple of hours, darkened only by the realization that reality would hit again when church ended and she went home to be alone with her thoughts of Trent.

  Bobbie McBride had other plans for her.

  “You’ll have lunch at our house today,” she informed Annie after church, as if there was no other alternative.

  “Oh, no, I—”

  Bobbie didn’t even seem to hear her. “My whole family will be there and I’d like to introduce you to the ones you haven’t met yet. There will be more than enough food, so no need for you to stop for anything. Just follow us home.”

  “Ms. Stewart’s coming to lunch?” Approaching them just in time to overhear his grandmother’s brusque instructions, Sam beamed in pleasure. “Cool.”

  “No, really, I think—”

  “Oh, Annie, I’m so glad you’re coming for lunch,” Jamie gushed, coming up behind young Sam. “I’ve told Tara about you and she would love to meet you.”

  Annie tried one more time to politely decline. “This is very kind of you all, but—”

  Bobbie looked at her watch. “We’d better be going. I have a few more things to do to get lunch ready. Come along, Annie. Don’t be shy.”

  “Yes, come along, Annie. Bobbie has spoken,” Trevor murmured in her ear, the only one who seemed to realize that Annie had been given no choice in the matter.

  She looked at him dazedly as Bobbie bustled away and Jamie ushered Sam and Abbie toward the car. “I wasn’t expecting an invitation to lunch,” she said. “I didn’t bring anything. And I hate to intrude on your family holiday.”

  “One thing you should learn about the McBrides,” he advised her kindly. “There is always room at our table for our friends. I can speak for everyone when I say we’d love to have you join us today.”

  Annie was quite sure he wasn’t speaking for Trent.

  “Besides,” Trevor added, “Mother is very grateful to you for stepping in at the last minute for the choir the way you did this week. She has a hard time expressing her feelings sometimes, but feeding you is her way of showing her gratitude.”

  She didn’t see any way to decline now without hurting Bobbie’s feelings. She could only hope there would be enough people there that she could avoid a potentially awkward encounter with Trent.

  TRENT WAS NOT SURPRISED to see Annie at his parents’ house for Easter lunch. He knew his mother well enough to have expected her to bring Annie home, whether Annie had wanted to come or not.

  Fortunately there were enough people there to make it unnecessary—if not downright impossible—for he and Annie to be forced to engage in private conversation. To Bobbie’s delight, the entire extended family had come for the day. The atmosphere was hectic, with adults talking and laughing and children running and shouting, but Bobbie didn’t seem to notice the chaos as she bustled from room to room, barking orders like a maternal drill sergeant, and being obeyed with the same deference. She was in her element.

  Trent was sitting in one corner watching the activities—specifically, watching Annie mingling so easily with his family—when his older cousin Lucas sank into the chair beside him.

  “Crazy, isn’t it?” Lucas waved a hand to indicate the general pandemonium. Having been separated from his family for nearly fifteen years, reunited only four years ago, Lucas still seemed to be adjusting to being around so many McBrides at one time. He and his wife, Rachel, lived quietly in L.A., making a couple of trips a year to Honoria to visit his sister, Emily, and the rest of the family.

  Trent nodded. “I’m not used to so many people around, either. A few minutes of peace and quiet would be welcome now.”

  “So you’re enjoying living on your own?”

  “It suits me,” Trent replied, his amusement fading. He liked to think he had adapted well enough to the curves life had thrown him. There had only been a few problems he hadn’t been able to deal with, he mused, his gaze drawn across the room to where Annie stood chatting with Rachel.

  Following his gaze, Lucas said, “Annie seems very pleasant, though I haven’t had a chance to talk with her yet. I’m a little confused—did I hear Aunt Bobbie say she’s Trevor’s housekeeper?”

  Trent scowled, thinking of how ridiculous it was that Nathaniel Stewart’s daughter was being introduced that way. Even though that was exactly what she had chosen to do, he reminded himself, still finding her choices hard to comprehend.

  It wasn’t that he considered housekeeping a demeaning position in itself—it was honest, if very demanding, work. But he simply couldn’t understand why she worked as hard as she did, risking her health and leaving her no time for leisure, just to prove to her father that she could make it on her own. There were plenty of other ways for her to make an independent living—he had no doubt Annie could do whatever she wanted. He still believed she had chosen the job that would most annoy her father.

  “Trent?” Lucas sounded a bit puzzled. “Did you zone out?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sensory overload, I guess. You were saying?”

  “I was asking what Annie’s connection is to the family.”

  “Friend,” Trent murmured, studying her across the room. “Annie’s a friend.”

  “Then I suppose that’s all I need to know. So, how are you, Trent? I hear you’ve been doing some fairly demanding carpentry work.”

  Which meant the family had been talking about him. It wasn’t surprising, actually. They all kept tabs on each other, primarily through Bobbie. But it still bothered him. “I’m fine,” he said, trying not to speak too curtly.

  “You’re thinking of starting a carpentry business?”

  “Considering it.”

  “I’ve always said you did beautiful work. I remember when you were a kid you were fascinated watching your mother’s brother Phil work with wood. You got all his tools when he retired to Florida a couple of years ago, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. He sold me his whole shop for practically nothing. His daughter wasn’t interested in any of it, and he knew I was the only one of his nephews who had any affinity for woodworking, so he wanted me to have his tools. I’ve set up a room in the outbuilding beside the little house I bought last year and I’ve been building some things in there. I’m getting quite a few requests lately for custom-designed items, so I think I can make a living at it eventually.”

  “But what about the lifting and bending involved? Will you be able to handle it?”

  This was the older cousin who had taught him to ride a bicycle, he reminded himself. Lucas’s questions were motivated purely by familial concern. There was no reason for Trent to take offense—and yet it galled him when anyone reminded him that he wasn’t in the prime physical condition he had once taken so much for granted. “I’ll hire help for anything I can’t handle myself.”

  Lucas nodded. “That’s always been my business philosophy. Good luck—and let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  Trent merely nodded and shifted to a more comfortable position on the hard sofa.

  The younger children demanded an Easter-egg hunt after lunch. Savannah’s twins, Michael and Miranda, and Wade’s son, Clay, volunteered to hide the brightly colored eggs outside while the adults cleared away the remains of the enormous lunch they had all enjoyed.

  Trent was be
ginning to wonder when he could make an escape to the peaceful solitude of his own home. He loved every member of his family, but he’d had about all he could take today. It was bad enough that they so often, if unintentionally, reminded him of how drastically his life had changed in the past couple of years. But the most difficult part of the reunion for him was being so physically close to Annie—and yet so completely separated from her.

  Every time he looked at her, he wanted to touch her. Every time he heard her speak, he remembered the sound of her husky cries in the night. And every time he tried to talk to her, he remembered the chasm that had opened between them—in his perception, at least—when he’d found out exactly who she was. A woman who had no need for anyone, especially a flawed former pilot.

  Everyone moved outside to watch the Easter-egg hunt. Trevor and Jamie’s children, Sam and Abbie, competed cheerfully with Wade and Emily’s almost-two-year-old daughter, Claire, and Tara and Blake’s toddler, Alison, for the most eggs in their baskets.

  Trent was standing off to one side watching the festivities from a safe distance when Annie spoke from behind him. “You’ve done a very good job of pretending I’m not here today,” she said quietly. “If some of the others hadn’t spoken to me, I’d wonder if I’d gone suddenly invisible.”

  Bracing himself, Trent turned to face her. She was wearing a little smile, but her eyes were very serious.

  He knew Annie was as upset as he was that there was so much distance between them now. Despite the words he’d thrown at her in anger, he didn’t really believe she had become involved with him to spite her father. That wasn’t Annie’s style. She had fought the attraction as hard as he had—but it had been stronger than both of them.

  He just couldn’t seem to get past this money thing. Even if he could forgive her for keeping secrets from him—which he could—he couldn’t adjust to the sudden difference in their status. It had been easier, somehow, when they’d been more equal in his mind. Both starting life over with nothing, both having something to offer the other. She’d made him feel useful again. Even needed.

  But she didn’t need him. Why would she? And he’d never had a yen to play the male version of Cinderella. “You aren’t invisible, Annie,” he said. “I’ve watched you charming my family all day.”

  “Your mother didn’t give me a choice about coming, really. She practically kidnapped me.”

  He nodded, having suspected something like that.

  The light tone she’d been using suddenly darkened. “I hope I haven’t ruined your Easter with your family.”

  “You haven’t.” His gaze on her full, unhappy mouth, he pushed his hands into his pockets to keep them away from her. She’d been smiling for the others, he remembered. He hated it that he had taken her smile away.

  The look in her eyes was suddenly beseeching. “Trent, I—”

  “Uncle Trent! Look at my eggs!”

  The high-pitched warning came just a little too late. Running up on Trent’s side, beyond his range of vision, Abbie barreled straight into him, knocking him off balance. The ground where he’d been standing was unlevel, and Abbie had come from uphill. He stumbled, making a massive effort not to fall and take the little girl down with him. Hands were suddenly there to steady him—Annie first, and then Trevor, who had sprinted toward them when he’d seen what was going to happen.

  It was over in seconds. No one was hurt, and not everyone there even saw the incident. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken it so seriously. It could have happened to anyone, he supposed—anyone with limited vision, at least. Trent tried to smile to reassure Abbie that she hadn’t done anything wrong and to convince Trevor and Abbie that he was fine. No big deal. Nothing to get all bent out of shape about.

  He only wished he could believe those things, himself.

  “Nice haul there, Abbie,” he drawled, patting her head and nodding toward her basket of eggs. “Better go run find some more before Sam finds them all.”

  Totally oblivious to the disaster she had almost unwittingly caused, Abbie grinned and ran away to join her brother and cousins.

  “You’re okay, Trent?” Trevor asked lightly, but watching him closely. “Didn’t twist your back or anything, did you?”

  “Come off it, Trevor. You really think I can be taken out by a three-year-old?”

  Trevor grinned crookedly. “I think this particular three-year-old could take out every adult here.”

  To Trent’s relief, attention returned to the end of the egg hunt. A few minutes after that, he found his mother and told her he was leaving. “I have some things to do at home,” he said. “I promised to have a couple more of those kid-size rockers finished this week.”

  “You have to go now?” Bobbie asked with a frown. “I was going to round everyone up for a game of charades.”

  Which only made Trent more determined to leave. There had been a time when he’d been an enthusiastic and acclaimed participant in family games. Now the thought of charades made him cringe. “I really have to go, Mom.”

  Because he knew everyone would try to talk him into staying, he thought he would just slip away quietly, without saying goodbye. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t see them all again soon, he told himself. They made a point of getting together often.

  He almost made it. He’d reached his truck when Annie spoke from behind him. “Running away, Trent?”

  He turned slowly, his eyebrows drawn into a frown. “I have things to do.”

  She stood only a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest, her feet spread as if in challenge. “You’ve been a real life of the party today. And now you’re leaving. I have ruined your holiday, haven’t I?”

  “I told you, you haven’t ruined anything. My parents can entertain anyone they want to in their home.”

  “Trent, please don’t leave because of me. I know you’re angry with me, but don’t let that ruin your time with your family. I’m the one who should leave, not you. You belong here.”

  He glanced darkly toward the house, from which muted sounds of laughter and conversation drifted toward them. “Trust me, Annie, I feel as much the outsider here as you do, if not more. The Trent they knew—the one they still want me to be—died in a plane crash caused by his own reckless stupidity. It wasn’t even a military plane on a noble mission. It was a buddy’s home-built experimental model that he thought he could fly just because he thought he could do anything. That guy was so cocky and full of himself that he thought the world was his for the taking. He could do anything. He had no limitations. As for me—well, I don’t know who the hell I am anymore.”

  Her eyes had widened in what might have been distress and she shook her head. “Your family knows who you are. You’re the same man they have always known and loved. Just because your circumstances have changed doesn’t mean they feel any differently about you.”

  He blew air through his nose, telling himself he knew his family better than she did. “Of course they still love me—and they feel sorry for me. Poor invalid Trent.” Bitterness coated his voice so thickly that even he could hear it.

  Distress changed quickly to anger as Annie drew herself up to her full five feet three inches and looked him straight in the eye. This was the look that had taken him so by surprise the first time he had seen it. The time he’d realized that she wasn’t the shy, meek little housekeeper he’d thought her at first. Maybe it was then he had started to fall for her—before he had learned how completely wrong that first impression had been.

  “That,” she said crisply, “is the biggest crock of garbage I’ve ever heard. Your family doesn’t think of you as an invalid, Trent McBride, and neither do I. The only one around here who thinks of you that way—is you.”

  He put a hand on the door handle of his truck. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Fine. Run away. Go home and feel sorry for yourself. But that won’t change the fact that for some unaccountable reason everyone here loves you. Everyone, God help us. No matter how many excuses you make to keep us a
way, it won’t change the way we feel. All you’re doing is hurting us, and yourself, because you’re still punishing yourself for making a mistake. For not being perfect. So run hide, Trent, and make everyone else suffer along with you.”

  What might have been terror rose up to choke him, compelling him to move. To run—just as she had accused him of doing. If he stayed, he wasn’t sure what he would do. He had an uneasy feeling he would do something that would change everything—permanently. And he just wasn’t ready for that.

  He opened the truck door. “We’ll talk later,” he muttered.

  “Maybe,” she said coolly. “Or maybe I’ll finally take your hint and get out of your life. If you’re so determined to be alone, I don’t know if I can change your mind. Or if I should even try.”

  The thought of her leaving for good punched a hole right through his heart. He lashed out in panic and pain, reaching out to snag her by the back of the neck and pull her roughly toward him.

  His mouth only a heartbeat from hers, he looked into her brown eyes, studying the stormy emotions reflected there. Some of them he recognized. Anger. Hurt. Desire. Love? If he saw it there, he refused to acknowledge it.

  “Go back to your daddy, rich girl,” he muttered, holding himself away from her with an effort that made his hand tremble. “You don’t belong here. You don’t belong with me.”

  He watched her eyes fill with tears just before he released her and turned away. He was in his truck with the engine started before she could speak. He knew she watched him as he drove away. He was so distracted by the tumultuous emotions she had roused in him that he forgot to compensate for his peripheral-vision loss and almost sideswiped a dark sedan that was cruising slowly past his parents’ house. The near accident only made him more aware of his shortcomings—and that Annie had been there to witness it.